


The wolf and the snake.

by Mad08



Category: Original Work, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: But sadly they are too busy to stay for long., Drunkness, F/M, Fighting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jaskier and Geralt implied, Minor Character Death, dirty jokes hidden throughout, surprise guest visits from Jaskier and Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad08/pseuds/Mad08
Summary: Hi!This fic was loosely inspired by once upon a time, but ultimately the idea is entirely mine own.  Now this is my first time posting a work of mine so please ignore any mistakes especially the grammar ones 😅😅😅Jaskier and Geralt are implied but just to be safe I put the fandom down.Have fun reading!!
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You get a cookie if you find all the dirty jokes and innuendos.

Your youth was a gift. 

A gift you're given once and shouldn't waste because soon it will be gone. In her youth, she had a beauty that drew lustful looks from men who brushed against her at every opportunity. Randal Lockwood was mayor over their fishing town and had almost everything a man could want. He had a lovely house filled with priceless art, control, and respect. 

The only thing he didn't have was a woman. Plenty of husband hunters flutter their eyelashes at him. Anyone logical would assume that he'd pick one and fuck them until his heart’s content. He wanted beauty. She was a blooming sunflower twirling in the wind ripe for the plucking. 

But her roots ran farther than he thought, and the pretty flower ended up crushed under his vice grip. He left her in the dirt, broken and painfully alive. The beautiful face that would win her a lovely ending to her story became marred with scars. Her left eye turned blind, and scars ran from her forehead to her chin. He wanted to break the wild mare in, turn her into an obedient breeding horse. But forgot how many men died trying to tame a thick-witted horse.

When her beauty crumbled beneath his angry blade, his hunger broke, and he left. But she didn't forget the rage that nearly consumed her whole. Sunshine turned to darkness under his touch, under the thunderous drums of revenge. Maybe she's twisted. A snarling bitch who can't stop baring her teeth and wanted her stolen bone back too much, but she wasn't scared. 

That night she used all her fear up; it took another night before she saw him again. The bayonet on her shoulder was more than enough to send fear into his eyes. It was almost worse that one side of her face went untouched. While the other bore the signs of his unwanted love. Of his stupid, worthless, crooked, useless lust that no one gave a fuck about but him. 

Years passed, but the taste of the dirt that she inhaled as blood ran down her neck wasn't one she will ever forget. Randal tasted it on a night where her bayonet became bloody. Everyone had known what she had done. But they also knew what he did. The evidence stared them down. Even the fools who spat at women with sharp minds couldn't deny it. But she was no longer welcome.


	2. Starting over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is kinda short. Dunno how to really decide where to label the chapters.

But she was no longer welcome. 

Leaving her home, the only place she ever knew, was easier than she thought. But that might've been because she couldn't stand to look at it. Life on the road wasn't hard. Kind strangers looked at her face with pity and children with curiosity. Some look at her with disgust with jokes that bruised her fists. 

Life on the road wasn't hard. It was living with the beast she's become. 

The night she decided to throw away the last golden petal that marked her as a trading piece. A gentle man whore with fiery red hair cradled it when she handed it to him. She was someone new. The old her would've flushed at the thought of making a whore moan by using her mouth.

Now she's got blood on her name. No home. A ravenous monster inside her head, which will never be full. She treads a thin line, from becoming a version of her that even her mother wouldn't recognize. And self-collapsing. Then she met her true love.


	3. Chapter 3 Fair Floren

Then she met her true love. 

One better than any boy who warmed her insides better than any lover, she settled down for; the ocean. Calluses replaced the soft skin of her hands. Tan replaced pale and agile replaced stumbles. Her lover didn't stare or try to uncover every tale behind her scars. Her lover didn't come up with theories about her past or pity her; the ocean never muttered about how she'll never get a husband or have children. 

She was beautiful before, and she is beautiful now. No scar or jealous wife will change the fact. On her 21st name day, she buys a red chipping ship. It was small enough to operate independently and docks at a new town by the end of the night. It took months before the boat became a houseboat, but it's a proud one hand made. 

The reflection in the mirror is a familiar stranger. Her one eye is too hardened for any to read. Her smile is too wolfish, a friendly warning of what will happen if you try to push your luck. Every act of disrespect earns a swift reprimand. One that those bastards will never forget. She’ll never be mistaken for weak again. 

It takes several years and bars before she meets Florent. Floren was the fifth son to a lord who no longer mattered. His hair red and eyes kind even though he was nothing but a spare in his family's eyes. He spares change to the children on the streets and smells like flowers. Glaring tall guards sit at his side. 

Florent watches a blue-eyed bard. The bard sings and dances with a grace that royalty would envy. A broad white-haired man glares from the corner. His yellow-eyes are putting the fear of God into anyone who reaches for the bard. Every curious hand falls down, shaking.

She fucked him in an empty room of the tavern when gorgeous whores distract his guards. Their moans buried under the sound of the bard's sweet voice. Florent dedicates months to writing her poetry. Poems about her hair, smile, scars, and even her laugh. It’s strange having one love you so much.


	4. Chapter 4 Love sweeter then rosewater.

It’s strange having one love you so much. 

She can’t write poems or ballads. But she can protect Florent and teach him how to defend himself. Pilant under her instructions and easy to blush. Cheeks redder than his hair as he does his warm-ups. Florent’s bodyguards eat cake and sip tea while they watch. They are offering comments that aren’t helpful in the slightest. Some make her laugh, which only makes Florent brighten. 

Returning home only to discover flower petals pressed into the creases of his poems. Florent trips and has the stealth of a drunkard. Yet he still manages to sneak poetry into her satchel without fail. It’s endearing. She has the chance to steal this rose under his family’s nose forever. He asks her once drunkenly climbing into her boat. By the time she could think of a response, he’s asleep. 

She asks him a starry night, and his smile is enough of a response. They get married by a priest who knows not to ask questions or to be curious. The bodyguards attend, of course, complimenting the flowers in Florent’s hair. She never cared for dresses, and she has to be ready to flee in case Florent’s family catches on to their intentions. 

She steals the blooming flower and sails away without a backward glance. Florent isn't her true love.


	5. Chapter 5 One rose decays.

Florent isn't her true love. 

Not like the sea is, but he's a close second. He fills their home with vibrant flowers and artworks sold on the street. He teaches her to dance, then begs her to, even if there is no band. They sway in the middle of the crowd or the middle of their bedroom. 

Florent is a sweet puppy who bound himself to a bloody scarred wolf. If he were anyone else, she’d think he’s after the protection she provides. Like the yellow-eyed man, she’ll protect her gentle lover to the end of time. Florent’s love can’t wash the blood off her hands. His love didn’t heal her scars, although he does remark how attractive she is with them. 

She and Florent don’t settle down. They keep moving from city to city. Sometimes mindlessly drifting around the sea, relishing in the other’s company, tasting new food, learning about foreign cultures.  
They dance and sing along to songs they don't understand. 

She’s a widow at 37. A nasty plague ripped her sweet rose from her grasp: roots and all, floating in the wind, the gods carrying him far out of reach.

She replaces the flowers when they die. After a couple of years, she stops bothering. It takes more for her to stop swaying in an empty room filled with the warmth of lovers. She starts looking on the streets for anything that can fill her fighting, art, lovers. 

Until she finds a baby in an open crate.


	6. Chapter 6 Another rose blooms.

Until she finds a baby in an open crate. 

She’s drunk, so she stumbles. As she sits by its side, feeling stupid. As she waits for a mother that will never come back for her baby, she takes the baby home. In the morning, when the screams for food wake her, regret fills her.

The mother of four’s grins as she opens her door. The woman is kind enough to offer to feed the baby for her. The baby stays with her for weeks; then months, milk builds in her chest for him; he takes it without protest. Florent, in all his sweet glory, never pressured her for a child. His kisses didn't change as the years passed by without a babe in her belly. 

She cried all night. As the baby coos at the full moon, snug in her arms, thinking of Florent and his smile that could've made flowers bloom. 

Florin was a sweet babe who loved the sea almost as much as she did. Years pass as she tries to center herself around his kind, brown eyes. 

But doesn't file her sharp teeth down. She needs that in case any come for the stumbling laughing boy. She doesn't want to be his mother. Something on her tongue prevents her from agreeing when he calls her mother. They move around too much. Florin only knows what she taught him and bloody streets. His friends and loves scattered around the globe. 

She’s worried about him. Her lifestyle isn’t one for a child.


	7. Chapter 7 Doing the impossible.

She’s worried about him. Her lifestyle isn’t one for a child.

Florin deserves a steady home, with a mother who can smother him with love. A mother who doesn’t wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, shaking with screams trapped in her throat. But Florin can’t believe for a single second that she's abandoning him or doesn’t want him. 

It took months, but at last, she found a sweet lark. One who is gentle and attentive to Florin’s needs in ways she never was, she gets the lark drunk off her ass as a test. The first test of twenty. The giggly lark asks to braid her hair and snuggles her arm, and lights up at the mention of Florin. 

The pretty lark passes all 19 with flying colors. A victor has been declared.

She places him in the arms of a sweet, loyal lark who sings delightful songs for him. She comes back weeks later with a choice to be made. Florin chooses warmth that comes from the lark. He calls her grandmother before he kisses her cheeks. She doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh. 

She is old enough to be mistaken for a grandmother.

Heart heavy and lifted with something she'll never describe. It took her a year before she meets a pirate crew in search of ancient knowledge, the kind she knows too well. The ever-changing mischievous blue sea was her real love, a painful reminder. 

But she still gazes at it, letting the pain wash away. She's a sight. An old woman blind in one eye, scars across her face, too thin to be anything but human-made, bloody bayonet on her back. They sail away to a distant vibrant island. 

The captain, with eyeliner smudged beneath his eyes, warns her to stay on board.


	8. Chapter 8 New beginnings

The captain, with eyeliner smudged beneath his eyes, warns her to stay on board. 

Old age must've made her stay aboard for two hours before she can't stand it anymore. The golden sand settles as she's in the body of the woman she was at 24, scarred, and teeth bared. It’s not the strangest thing that has she’s been through. She is, after all, 82 and a widow. 

Magical hoodoo, she'll never understand when she doesn't need to use it against her enemies. 

Changing into black pants far too big for her, they hung off her well enough after she tightened the belt. The white shirt wasn't any better. But after minutes of tying, it fits close enough, and she found boots that fit. Bayonet strapped to her back and swords on her hips. 

She sets out into the red-fruited jungle, following the pirate’s tracks to find the fools tangled in a net. A pretty boy is grinning up at them, arms wide as his mocking honey voice curls around her ears. He was pliant under her hand. Soft pale skin warm under her. Green eyes are widening as he takes her in the fools grunt when they hit the dirt-covered ground. 

His green eyes follow her as she snatches the ingredient from the captain's belt and marches back to the ship. The hidden eyes in the jungles watch as the fools stumble over themselves to keep up. 

The pirate captain gets what he wants. But she's left trapped young with the only option to suck, up to, the island’s king or to become a part of the pirate crew. 

She creates her own choice.


	9. Chapter 9 Choices

She creates her own choice.

She builds a sturdy shack in the jungle by the golden beaches. The hut does its job, keeps her warm and from overheating. It keeps the others out, the pirates and Lost Boys. She sleeps on fur sheets and sips stolen booze. It’s all temporary until her new houseboat is ready for the ocean’s mischief. 

Eyes from the jungle and a tall ship watch her catch breakfast. The hungry mermaids leave her alone when scraps of meat are thrown their way. Hermit: They call her; the cloaked boys under the king's vice grip and green pirates who hadn't seen her old gray form. She doesn't care for titles much, but she likes the way it rolls off their tongues with wary fear in their eyes. 

The pretty king grins as he talks, a snake slithering around her arms. He doesn't look away as she bathes. The snake's scales rub against her neck. As her fingers move within to find a place she hasn't reached in years. He doesn't react fast enough when she grabs him by his hair and kisses him. Or notices when she steals the purple vial off his belt. 

He does when she goes to pull away, kissing back harder and quicker than she thought he would. It's a pleasant surprise that sparked a wildfire in the pit of her belly. Smooth scales rub against her thighs, sending shivers down her spine. 

As irritating tree bark digs into her back, curious hands exploring and groping. Before they snap back to their senses, their soft pants mingle as she tucks the vial out of sight. She laughs. As she leaves the king there, lips bruised and panting.


	10. Chapter 10 Why can’t an old woman have fun?

She laughs. As she leaves the king there, lips bruised and panting.

Years fly away without a single thing to indicate it as she dunks her feet in the cold, clear seawater.   
She knows the creatures of the hungry sea won't come for her. They've learned that attacking her never ends well. She hunts whatever catches her gaze, even the pretty mermaids who try to wrap their crimson claws around her ankles. If she were younger, she wouldn't be able to resist their charms or beauty. But she's old as hell despite not having the wrinkles to show for it. So their charms slide off her as water does to a duck. 

When the time comes for her to put a lost boy on his knees, she does without hesitation. Hermit. They call her. But they come to learn that night. As she leads the quivering boy wrapped up in the bandages who told the tale of her sharp teeth. 

She floats between the island and the real world where time marches on, visits Florin. Who grips her tightly in his strong embrace when the pretty king grants her permission to leave. A year she floats too far away from the island. Only spending her days catching and selling fish, sipping ale that warms the very insides of her bones. 

But a gleaming magic-user seizes her by the arm and takes her back where the king is in chains and muzzled. They tie him to her with ancient magic then leave without a single goodbye. They bound a snake to a wolf.


	11. Chapter 11 Snake and a wolf.

They bound a snake to a wolf.

They need each other to survive; he needs her if he wants to remain untouched by time, and she needs the company. Or she will go insane, floating endlessly around the ocean. She keeps him at sea. They travel far and wide to places beyond his imagination. But she doesn't kiss or grace his bed for many years, where neither of them gains a single wrinkle or grey hair. 

Then spring hits, and they christen every inch of their houseboat. 

A new one after the sea swallows the old one whole. A snake and wolf turn into rabbits until eventually there's something more in play than mutual pleasure. Something more consuming and delightful. A few days wasted at sea, kissing each other softly while exploring each other’s bodies. They are in denial love for several years before he spits it out one night then storms inside. 

That left her staring where he stood like a fool. They wrestle the saying as if it was the enemy. Still, at the end of the night, they know where they stand, naked, cuddling closer. As he plays with her hair, she leaves bite marks on his skin.


End file.
